Strangers
by seventhSINwrath
Summary: Kamerreon’s Drabble Challenge — a drabble a day until my imagination dies — exactly one hundred days from today. Slash.


Strangers

**Warning: **Slash.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Eyeshield 21 or Harry Potter.

**Pairing: **Hiruma/Harry.

**Note: **This can be seen as a prequel/sequel to another drabble I wrote called, _Summer_. How Hiruma and Harry first meet.

**Word Count: **798 (only actual Drabble)

_**One Drabble a Day Challenge, Date: **_Monday, October 19th, 2009

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Strangers

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The best piece of advice Petunia had ever given him was _'don't talk to strangers'_. Although she had meant people who were strange, and not people who he didn't know, Harry had still taken it and followed by it because, well, he had no desire to be like the children he heard about on TV who were taken by people they didn't know, some even killed.

So, at eight-years-old, Harry became very closed off when it came to others, becoming full out anti-social a little after he entered Hogwarts because, well, apparently wizards didn't bother to learn manners seeing how strangers would randomly come up to him and touch him, even forming lines in front of him to do so, without his consent, rubbing him like he had some kind of luck that would rub off on them if they touched him enough.

So, when Harry had spotted a blond haired, devil like stranger on the train, raving and ranting to a sheepish, and rather large male, about losing his bag (which held his money and most everything else) , Harry's need to do right had driven out the instinct to stay away and or run from the decidedly frightening male. After all, he had spotted the bag right next to himself, just underneath the seat next to him and out of sight to the other. Besides, it wasn't anything big, he would hand it over and go back to reading his book, right?

He would learn later how naïve (and completely wrong) this thought had been.

"Um, is this yours?"

He held out the medium sized, messy bag to the ranting blond devil-like stranger, cutting him off. The stranger, angry and pissed but no where near anything as scary as Harry had seen in the war (or so Harry thought at the time), turned to him looking about to spit fire before his expression lightened up at the sight of the bag in his hand. He paused, eying Harry's hand and arm before breaking out in a frightening grin, taking the bag slowly.

"Thanks, …?"

He trailed off, leaning in and leering slightly. Harry answered before he could stop himself.

"Harry Potter."

The blond grinned.

"Hiruma Yoichi. Call me Yoichi."

Harry inwardly shivered nervously as the blond gave him that frightening smirk. He was getting the strong feeling that his kind decision was a big mistake. And by the look the larger male was giving him (pitying and worried), he knew his feeling was completely right.

The train stopped and Harry smiled nervously at the taller male, trying not to run as he left, feeling grateful that he would never have to be in the same room as the frightening blond again.

He would later muse that he had been overly naïve that day.

-

-

A week later, Harry calmly made his way to his the first day at Deimon High, which he was now attending, Harry having decided after graduating Hogwarts to peruse his muggle education, much to Hermione's delight. Japan, with the world's smallest and quietest magical community, was the obvious choice, not to mention Hermione's (muggle) third cousin, Mamori Anezaki, attended as well and offered to show him around.

Calm and more indifferent than not, Harry waited patiently for Mamori by the gate, having arrived early so he wouldn't be late.

He was cut out of his thoughts, however, when the familiar (devilishly) grinning face of Hiruma appeared in front of him. Holding back a squeak as he jumped, Harry smiled nervously at the other male, who slid close to him, too close. Trying to ignore the feeling of something poking into the small of his back, Harry offered him a confused look.

"H-hello. Can I help you?"

Hiruma's grin widened at the same time a glint of silver momentarily stole Harry's attention away. He had to hold back a squeak at the sight of a silver pistol pocking into the small of his back.

"Yes, yes you can, _Harry-kun_. How about a date?"

His name was all put purred and Harry's eyes winded at the tone and question.

"I-I don't--"

The pistol pressed harder into the small of his back. Harry gulped. It wasn't so much as a question as a statement and they both knew it.

"O-okay?"

He all but squeaked. Hiruma grinned, pulling away with a smirk and a promise to meet him outside the gate after classes ended (with a threat that if he wasn't there, Hiruma would go looking for him).

At that moment, Harry decided he was _never_ going out of his way to help a stranger anymore.

And, hey, Petunia had been right for once: Never talk to strangers. That is, unless you enjoy being threatened at gun point into a date with the devil himself.


End file.
